Logan
All of my research on Maya didn’t do her any justice. She was far more gorgeous in person than online. I was never much of a movie buff or a television watcher, so when I was told that I would, basically, be tailing after an actress, I decided to look her up.
Was she popular?
Was she loved or hated?
I was happy to read nothing but nice comments about her. She wasn’t one of those prima donnas who asked for things her way or else she’d walk off the set. No one ever said she was difficult to work with—just the opposite. Not only did her fellow film people praise her, but fans seemed to love her and several people posted selfies they had taken with her and some that looked doctored.
With so many good things written about her, I wondered what had changed since we hadn’t been given full details as to why she needed added security. Maybe it had something to do with her having a starring role as a super hero in her newest film which she was promoting at the festival. But even those comments seemed to be positive. That was when I decided to look at her social media accounts. Maybe there was a clue hidden there in the comments.
Again, those sites mostly depicted friendly comments. The only negativity I read involved bitchy or jealous comments as far as I was concerned. “Eat a cheeseburger.” “Those boobs can’t be real.” Then there were people asking her out for dates or to marry them.
According to her bio and a few gossip sites, Maya had never been married and was single. Not that any of that mattered to me. I wasn’t to be her personal escort for the week. Though I was required to wear formal attire to a few events while being at her side for protection. Nothing more. That all worked for me until I saw her in person and, more importantly, felt her hand in mine.
My thoughts were anything but professional and my feelings had nothing to do with her celebrity status. She was simply the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I wanted to thread my fingers through her dark auburn hair and draw her pale pink tulip-shaped lips to mine all the while gazing into her green eyes.
If I wasn’t mistaken, she was feeling something for me. She murmured something about sweeping her fingers across my forehead and I thought she was about to do it when I introduced myself. It was enough to hold her hand, I couldn’t even let my imagination get the better of me thinking of her hands on other parts of me.
It was time to get down to business and get my mind back on track and focused. “I have limited details about your schedule. I thought it might be best if you tell me what you want from me…” I was struggling to find words that didn’t have a sexual connotation to them. That wasn’t easy.
Maya really needed to stop licking her lips and looking at me like I was a meal. It could’ve been my imagination or maybe wishful thinking, but I knew when a woman was flirting with me and she was practically batting her eyelashes at me. “Well…” She started moving away from me and walking around the room, perhaps attempting to cool down the heat between us. “I have to do a bunch of interviews with journalists today and I have a meet and greet this evening. Both events are on the hotel grounds. The interviews will be held in this room.” She motioned around the room we stood in. “The other is in some conference room in the main part of the hotel.” I watched her turn to look out the opened sliding doors like she was about to point.
I had that information and had some guys checking out the room. She had nothing to worry about. I would get her to the places she needed to go, safely. It was always good to know exits and layouts of a location beforehand. Another plus was that there would be extra hands present when I stepped out with Ms. Bexley later that evening. Not that any of those hands would ever be touching her—that was my privilege. I would gently guide her with a steady hand to her arm and possibly her back, in the most professional way, of course.
“Are you expecting people this early?” I inquired when there was a knock at the door after her assistant had gone off to do some errands.
Ms. Bexley made a huffing sound before letting me know that the beauty brigade was arriving, followed by the florist and lastly the buffet setup. Something told me she didn’t like all of the fuss and I didn’t understand why she needed any work done on her. But she was right, I opened the door to a slew of people who waltzed in and transformed the living area and the woman into a glamour girl.
“See what I mean? It’s all a big production,” Ms. Bexley said as more people arrived with clothes to dress her and food to feed the journalists, followed by her assistant who directed each person in and out of the living area—aka the interview spot.
Ms. Bexley sat in the same seat and greeted various people, answering their questions and smiling politely. Once they were finished with their allotted time they were moved into the dining room to grab a snack before they were ushered out the door.
I had no idea how she did it and continued to have a smile on her beautiful face. I was exhausted and bored after I heard the same questions repeated over and over. I wasn’t sure that my presence was needed. There appeared to be no real danger, but she had asked to have full protection so I did as instructed. I really couldn’t complain too much when it allowed me to look at her with her ever present smile, eat good food and receive a few pats on my arm when she took a break after every few interviews.
“Hang in there, handsome. We’ll get through this together.”
Was she for real or was I living in some weird version of life where we were part of a romantic comedy? She delivered lines like a…an actress. I needed to tell myself to get a grip and remember who I was; a strong, military-trained man hired to serve and protect—nothing more.